[日期:08-03] 来源:快乐英语  作者:Eric G. Wilson 郭慧 译 [字体: ]



  On March 16, 2002, when daffodils were swaying in the slowly warming wind of a 1)North Carolina spring, I found myself in a 2)snug hospital room with my wife and just-born daughter, only hours old, and I thought of ice.


  A poem called Frost at Midnight, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, was on my mind. In this verse, written in 1798, Coleridge sits near his infant son, Hartley, on a winter night in England. He recalls events from his troubled life, one 3)fraught with chronic miserie ranging from melancholy to4)botched love to opium addiction to writer’s 5)block. With a 6)fervor usually reserved for prayer, the poet envisions a life for his son free of these problems—a vibrant, creative 7)existence. Coleridge then asks nature itself to nurture his parental hope, 8)invoking the 9)potency of green summer but also, and especially, the winter’s “secret 10)ministry of frost,” “quietly shining to the quiet moon.”


  As a college professor, I had been teaching Frost at Midnight for year and had decided, soon after my wife became pregnant, to read the poem to commemorate our baby’s birth. And so I did recite the poem to our girl—we named her Una—hoping, like Coleridge, that her life would be 11)perennially blessed by leaves and ice alike, by summery days but also by the chilly periods when she would most need strength.


  What intrigued and moved me about the poem was its curious suggestion that gloom and loneliness might actually cultivate a sort of 12)luminous affection. 13)Forlorn most of his life, Coleridge was acutely aware of the 14)bliss of human connection. Had he led a life free of suffering he might have never realized the wondrous fullness that comes during a father’s watch over his child’s midnight sleep.


  To be hollow with longing is to 15)be suffused with love. The thirsty person best knows water. Wounded hearts realize the essence of healing.


  These are Coleridge’s exhilarating and strangely hopeful conclusions. They are optimistic because they envision a world in which suffering, inevitable and pervasive as gravity, is not meaningless but rather a source of wisdom. Even in the darkest hell, there persists a 16)consoling light, a light that 17)pulsates all the more forcibly against its 18)murky background. I held this hope high the day my girl was born, knowing that she, no matter how 19)adept, would necessarily undergo failure, frustration, los and confusion.


  Maybe these challenging episodes would push her to explore her life with more honesty, to assess with more rigor her strengths and weaknesse and thus to discover useful truths unavailable in her more contented moments.


  Only months after that March day in the hospital, I sat in my study preparing for a class on Coleridge’s20)Kubla Khan and heard Una in another room gurgle and 21)coo and then cry. I thought about how she would soon grow too old to play with me and then become too22)jaded to care about me and then leave home for somewhere else and only very seldom come back. I suddenly felt sadder than I ever had before. I felt the pain of losing her and the wonder of loving her. I adored her more for her 23)imminent going. This wasn’t happines and it wasn’t pleasure. It was a more profound and durable experience, a moment24)encompassing both tragedy and 25)euphoria, a child lost and a child found.


  26)C. S. Lewis once claimed that the opening lines of Kubla Khan filled him with an 27)unquenchable but 28)rapturous yearning. He believed that such 29)exultant aching is nothing other than joy: “an unsatisfied desire which is itself more desirable than any other satisfaction.”


  The German term for this experience i as Lewis tells u 30)Sehnsucht, and it describes precisely those 31)instants when we are most alive: so sad we want to cry, so overjoyed that we weep. These 32)antagonistic 33)epiphanie the inspirations of Coleridge’s geniu mark the transformative 34)epochs of our lives.


  I have been blessed by at least one such revelation, a 35)marriage of 36)verdure and frost. It keeps my fatherly affections as fresh as the spring, even though I know snow is never far. It holds me close to my girl as she walks into the cold distance. She is now seven years old and growing fast. She laughs as much as she cries.







  • “如梦令”双语英译
  • 双语:总有一句话 触动你的心
  • 双语诗歌:人生如旅途
  • 收藏 推荐 打印 | 录入:Zoe913 | 阅读:0 次
    表情: 姓名: 字数